Pressure
by Sereneffect
Summary: The trials and stresses of command are never easy, but that doesn't mean that they can't be fun. For a new Primarch, the pressure is starting to mount, but he has a Spectre and a sniper ready to help him ease it. Rated for smut (duh), language, and generally mature situations. Written by request.
1. Chapter 1

**As requested by twinwriter16, a fun triangle of smutty fluffy wonderfulness! I feel really bad because I agreed to write this almost a month ago and like a total loser took FOREVER to write it. But I promise there's more in progress!**

**Greenyoda987 is, as always, the greatest for working with me and being the best beta EVER.**

* * *

The shuttle's thrusters sputtered as the vehicle banked hard to make its retreat, leaving its unfortunate occupants scrambling for cover from the hail of bullets descending on them. Yet Shepard turned the opposite way, back toward the bomb they were defending, praying it could be diffused. No matter how angry she had been about not knowing all of the facts about the mission, she empathized with the younger Victus. She just hoped it wasn't all for nothing.

"Lieutenant, status report!" she barked into the comm, falling back to try and get a look at his progress. Her movements were practiced, automatic as she swapped the clip of her pistol; she caught a glimpse of a Centurion bearing down on her and sent him sprawling with a biotic missile. She could hear Garrus and James draw closer, covering her movements as the remaining Cerberus troops fired desperately back at their entrenched position.

For a second, there was no reply save the ominous groan of the metal mechanism encasing the ordnance before the turian lieutenant swore. "Mechanism's jammed! I have to release it manually!"

Shepard caught a glimpse of him just as he started ascending the ladder leading to their target. "There's got to be another way!" She knew what that meant: he'd go up, release the jammed machinery, and the firing mechanism would fall, along with the Lieutenant. There was no way he could survive.

"No time."

Shepard growled something nondescript and slapped her pistol back into its mounts on her hip, already on her way toward the platform. "Don't you dare kill yourself over this, Victus." With a huff, she hoisted herself back onto the platform, scrambling to the console in search of the countdown. Less than thirty seconds. "This is not worth your life. There's got to be another way!" She stepped back, searching until she caught sight of him, dangling from near the top. The blood drained from her face and she swore, scrambling toward the ladder he had used moments before.

"I have to make this right Commander!" She could barely see the flutter of his mandibles as he wrenched the cover free and reached for the jammed mechanism to pull it free.

"Detonation in ten seconds," the placid voice of the console intoned.

"Victus!"

The cylinder slid out smoothly and he let it drop, clutching for the bars that served as the only thing keeping him from falling too. "Victory at… any cost."

Shepard watched, eyes wide as the metal frame screeched free and fell. She could hear screaming, belatedly realizing the sound was coming from her, and reached out, extending as far as she dared. It was an instant, barely half a second, yet the moment seemed infinite. His face flashed by, the only discernable emotion it could convey being fear, and she hadn't realized how young he truly was until then. His hand reached for something—anything—to save him, and sparks erupted from where his gauntlets scraped down the armor over her forearm. She grabbed for his hand, her fingertips sliding helplessly off the back of his hand.

All at once, the gunfire seemed to cease, everything grew quiet, and dust billowed up, blurring the war-torn landscape.

He was gone. Shepard stared, dumbfounded, at her empty hand and felt her throat tighten. No one was supposed to die. Not like this…

"Shepard, is—"

"Gone," she choked out, sliding back down the ladder. Her boots hit the metal deck and it took all of her effort not to crumble. She had been so close… If she'd been just a second faster, she might have saved him…

Neither Garrus nor James said anything, the gravity of what that single word meant crushing anything they could have replied with: the Primarch's son was dead.

"Shepard, we're reading that the bomb is offline. Cortez is bringing the shuttle down." Shepard looked up at the sound of her pilot's voice. "I assume everything went well?"

Shepard bit the inside of her lip to keep from screaming, and James saved her the trouble of answering, "Just get us back on the ship, Joker."

* * *

The shuttle felt darker, colder, than when they had landed on the krogan homeworld, and Shepard let her head fall into her hands, her elbows set on her knees. She had touched him… She could have saved him, _should_ have saved him… He had been _right there_. If she'd just reached a little farther… Or pulled him back with a mass effect field… Or something!

"Got a lot of chatter coming in from the krogan forces planetside, Commander." Shepard barely looked up at her pilot's interruption. "Looks like their sweeping out the remaining Cerberus troops. Hate to be the guy to tell them about that surprise package." There was only a brief pause before he spoke again, but his demeanor had changed and his usual humor was gone. "You get out ok? It sounded like things got ugly down there."

A bitter, melancholic smirk pulled at the corner of her lip and she shook her head. "The turians took a lot of casualties, Joker," she murmured past the lump in her throat, "the Primarch's son included."

For a second, it was silent as the grave and Shepard looked back down at the floor between her feet. "Understood, Commander. Joker out."

She didn't see the quick exchange of looks her squadmates shared before James jerked a thumb toward her hunched form and fixed Garrus with a hard look. _Fix this_, it said.

Garrus sat carefully beside her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. "He never hesitated." When she didn't look up, he swallowed heavily and kept going. "Whatever he was before, he'll be remembered for this."

She sighed. "What does the turian code say about this, Garrus?" she asked quietly, pressing her fingers into her eyelids. She wished Tarquin hadn't screwed up their landing… If only their mission hadn't gone wrong… _I wouldn't have watched him die_.

"Hard to say. Sacrifice in war is expected, so he did us proud, but…" A sad laugh escaped him. "We're a hard bunch to please."

Shepard couldn't help the smile that curled up the corner of her lips. "Of course you are."

"Living your life for the good of the cause, society first, platoon first," Garrus continued, unabashed, "It's all just expected." After a pause he gave her shoulder a squeeze. "You did everything you could."

She scoffed and shook her head, letting her hands dangle between her knees. "He did what he had to when it counted. But I couldn't."

"Shepard…"

"I could have saved him, Garrus," she cut him off in a harsh whisper, "I got a hand on him, I could have grabbed him… "

"No, you couldn't."

"You don't—"

"Yes I do." The turian let the hand on her shoulder slide around her back and pull her to his side. "There was no way you could have saved him, even if you _had_ grabbed him. He was falling too fast, the force would have ripped you off the scaffolding and you would have gone down with him. It might make me a bad turian, or even a bad person, but I'm _glad_ you didn't get a hold of him. We can't afford to lose you too. I know _I_ can't."

* * *

Shepard had retreated back up to her cabin the second they'd returned to the _Normandy_, And Garrus could understand why, but it left him in the unpleasant position of breaking the news to the Primarch. He understood why she felt so badly about it—he couldn't imagine seeing a life literally slip through his fingers—but the friendship he'd found in the Primarch made what he was about to do all the more painful.

"Garrus, what happened down there? Is there any news about my son?"

Garrus winced and held up his hands when the Primarch approached. "Victus… Adrien, maybe you should sit down."

"Don't treat me like some defenseless civilian, Vakarian. Out with it!" He was almost shouting and shoved the younger man roughly.

Garrus grabbed him by his shoulders and dragged him to a less-trafficked corner of the war room. "Tarquin died putting this right, sir," he rumbled, "He completed his mission. And Shepard watched him pay the price for your secrecy. Are you happy now?" It had been a crucial piece of intel, and Victus had withheld it. Shepard had been furious, and Garrus could understand why, but he felt a more personal betrayal; he had thought they were friends.

The Primarch's expression fell, all of the fight draining out of him and he sagged against the wall. "He's dead then…"

"Primarch!"

Garrus moved so he was between the Primarch and the advancing angry krogan and put up a hand. "Not now, Wrex."

"Out of my way, Garrus, he has to answer for this!"

Garrus was about to give him a piece of his mind when Victus pushed him aside. "We couldn't risk another galactic war with the krogan."

Wrex, however, didn't show any signs of accepting that explanation. "The genophage wasn't enough? You had to plant a _bomb_ on my planet?"

"The decision was made hundreds of years ago, so much has changed."

"Not enough to tell us about the bomb, coward!" Wrex lunged at him then, slamming him back against the bulkhead, and Garrus dove in to tear them apart.

"Hey! Enough!" He gave Wrex a rough shove back—barely enough to put a step between the two leaders. He understood the reasons for withholding the intel, but it still rubbed him wrong that the Primarch hadn't trusted him, at the very least, with the true nature of their mission. But he wasn't about to let Wrex berate the man who had just lost his son. "We have better things to do than fight with each other, regardless of how much of a reason either of you has!" He turned his anger on the man he had come to call friend. "Adrien, you had a _bomb_ on Tuchanka!" With a growl, he turned on the krogan he'd come to view as a kind of head-butting, grandfather-like brother. "And Wrex, in his position, you would have done the _same damn thing_."

Wrex scoffed. "Figures you would take his side, damn—"

"His son _died_ today making this right, Wrex," Garrus cut him off sharply. "It's done."

"Please, Garrus, it's alright…" Victus looked like a man who had had the strength sucked out of him; his reassuring smile looked weak and shaky.

Wrex had taken a step back, noticeably surprised, and awkwardly cleared his throat before speaking. "Alright, fine, you made your point. We have bigger enemies to face." He stalked away before anything else could be said and the Primarch visibly sagged.

"It's not alright." It wasn't a question and the elder man didn't try to deny it.

"I'll live. I'll have to, I suppose. Nothing else I can do, besides make sure it wasn't in vain." Victus shrugged. "I owe Shepard my thanks. Because of her, Tarquin died with the respect of his men. Whether she knows it or not, she did both Tarquin and myself a great service."

Garrus flicked a mandible in a sideways smile. "I think she does."

"The way you talked about her on Menae, I shouldn't be surprised." There was an edge of humor in his voice and Garrus indulged him with a laugh. "I find it very hard to believe she isn't turian."

"Believe me, she's not."

Victus snorted. "Now that you've put that image in my head—thank you, by the way—I really would like to thank her."

Garrus nodded toward the exit hallway. "She went up to her cabin. She's taking it hard… I can't guarantee that she'll want to talk about it."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

They rode up the elevator in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Shepard had barely said a word since the shuttle had docked, and Garrus wasn't sure she would be ready to face Victus. No matter how many times he told her there was nothing she could have done—he had even showed her the readings from his visor, and all the algorithms that concluded exactly what he had: nothing could have saved him—he knew she would still blame herself. That's just who she was. Even if it _was_ ridiculous.

The door to her cabin was locked when they stepped out, but Garrus didn't seem to care. A few quick commands on his omnitool, and the lock glowed green. Victus had the good grace not to comment and Garrus entered first.

"Shepard… The Primarch wanted to speak with you; I thought it would be better if he came up here." He stopped at the top of the stairs and she looked up. Her eyes were red and he could see the wet trails down her cheeks before she scrubbed them away. "Jane…"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, scrambling to her feet and pushing her hair back out of her face. The blonde locks were limp, still matted with dirt and grit. "You wanted to see me, Primarch?" Her expression had been schooled into a neutral mask, but Garrus could still see the tension across her shoulders, and the desolate look behind her eyes. Sometimes he wished she could let herself be vulnerable…

"I actually wanted to thank you, Shepard," Victus said, stepping around Garrus to descend into her small living area, "I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you did down on Tuchanka."

"With all due respect, sir, I watched your son fall to his death. I did nothing for you to thank me for," she said flatly, pressing her lips together to hide their tremble.

But Victus shook his head. "He died with the respect of his men. You didn't have to do that for him, but you did… And I wanted to thank you for that." At Shepard's confused expression, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "His sacrifice will be recorded in the histories of the Ninth Platoon, something any father would be proud of."

Garrus could hear the waver of his friend's voice, and the pain in his subharmonics, but said nothing. He was the leader of the turian people; betraying how deeply the loss affected him would do nothing to help his reputation on the galactic stage. Not that Shepard cared—or would say anything even if she did—but Victus might care. Garrus knew that, while a high-ranking officer, Victus was not completely trusted by all members of the Hierarchy, and the feeling was mutual.

Shepard met the Primarch's eyes boldly, the careful mask cracking only for a second. "I'm sure that's enough, sir, but I can't understand how." She took a step away, out from under Victus's hand and set both hands on the small desk she kept within falling distance of the bed, leaning her weight onto them. "I should have saved him. And I can't forgive myself for his death when I could have stopped it."

Garrus opened his mouth, but Victus beat him to the punch. "Enough, Commander. If everything Garrus has said about you is true—and I'm sure it is, regardless of his penchant for exaggeration—then I know that there is nothing more you could have done for my son."

Shepard's shoulders slumped and she let out a heavy sigh. "I…" She swallowed and tried again. "I'm sorry, sir. I know this isn't easy for you."

"There's no need to apologize, Shepard. Garrus told me that you tried to save him. That's not an easy position to be in."

The human woman looked down at her boots and ran a hand down her face. "He looked terrified. Dammit, he was so young…"

Garrus finally closed the distance between them and put his arms around her; automatically, she buried her face against his cowl. He let out a comforting trill and pressed his mouthplates to her hair in his approximation of a kiss. "Don't beat yourself up," he murmured, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Only a fool doesn't fear death," Victus said tiredly, "And I like to believe—for all his faults—that my son wasn't a fool. But he _was_ young…"

Shepard looked up and studied him for a moment, blinking back fresh tears. When she stepped back, Garrus cast her a quizzical glance, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before facing the Primarch.

"Sir," she said gently, "I don't know how turians mourn, but I can only imagine how you feel right now. I… well, I've lost people, and my… friends, squadmates on Elysium, people left behind… But… well, never a son. And…" she stopped, seeming to falter and hesitate a bit, but one look in Victus's eyes—eyes that seemed to be searching for _something_ to hold on to—she continued. "This might be a human ship, but you're not alone. We _are_ all in this fight together. Friends and family are what we're fighting for. Just, know that you're not alone," she finished, holding her arms open to him almost as if she were thinking of embracing him.

"I… thank you, Commander," Victus replied, cocking his head to the side as his mandibles fluttered questioningly. He shot a glance at Garrus, almost asking if the younger turian knew what the human woman was doing. Garrus just tilted his head down and gave a very subtle jerk of his head towards Shepard.

Shepard looked almost slightly rejected for a moment, before something seemed to dawn on her: Garrus only hugged because she was human, and she'd never seen any other turian do it. Whoops. "I, uh… well, humans sometimes show they are concerned or that they care about others by… hugging. I don't mean to assume anything, or to start a diplomatic incident" –her lips turned up in a small smile, trying to show the Primarch that she wouldn't be offended if he said no— "but, it sometimes helps.

For a second, Garrus thought he might refuse—they'd vaguely discussed the state of galactic affairs, and Victus had made it clear that he was ambivalent on the issue of humans—but the older man surprised him by flicking one mandible in a lopsided grin. "Turians aren't built for hugging."

Shepard smirked and rolled her eyes, grateful for the break in the awkward tension. "We manage," she replied, gesturing to Garrus. "You don't have to, but—"

Strong arms wrapped around her and she was surprised to find that Victus was actually even taller than Garrus was. _Never thought I'd feel short…_ After a second, she carefully tightened her arms around him so it was a proper hug. What she hadn't expected was the low growl that she felt from his chest. Garrus had taken an instinctive step forward, but looked just as confused as she did.

"Apologies," Victus finally said, stepping back, "The stress of this new job is…"

"I understand, Primarch," Shepard said, sparing him further explanation. Oh, she definitely understood that. If she didn't want to bash in her own skull on the bulkheads, she wanted to bash someone else's head in. Or rip her hair out. Or lock herself in her cabin until the universe decided to make more sense. But those weren't options, leaving her sorting out the mess. She knew all too well how stressful the job he'd suddenly found himself in was. And he was adjusting well, it seemed. Garrus slipped an arm around her waist and she smiled. "More than you probably know." It felt good to talk about something else, _anything_ else. Even something this personal was better than talking about death. Again.

"You're both terrible," he replied, putting a hand over his eyes. "First Garrus, now you. I'll be lucky if I don't see you two fucking in my dreams."

Shepard guffawed at his bluntness; she had forgotten that it was common in turian culture to use sex as stress relief. It had been a good ice breaker when they had first started out, but Garrus had been surprised to find how quickly Shepard had taken to the idea. Although, she had never thought the _Primarch_ of fucking _Palaven _would be making jokes about her sex life. She shook her head, pushing her hair back behind her ear with a chuckle, but Garrus studied the Primarch in curious silence, flexing his fingers against her hip.

"Well," Victus finally said, stepping back, "I should leave you to it, Commander. And I'm sure there's something the Hierarchy needs me to sign. Thank you again, Shepard. Garrus." With a nod, he left, leaving the two of them alone in her cabin.

After a brief pause, Garrus chuckled and put an arm around her shoulders, turning her so they were face-to-face. "I think you just made a pass at the Primarch."

Shepard stared at him for a second, blinking wide blue eyes in confusion. "I did?" The dour mood of the morning seemed to retreat, even if only a little as Garrus nuzzled her hair affectionately.

"Yes. And he didn't seem put off by it either."

"Reeeeally…" A catlike grin spread across her face and he quickly bundled her against his chest.

"Stop right there, I know that look," he rumbled, tightening his arms around her. She made a show of looking innocent before pressing a kiss to his throat.

"Is that a no?" she purred against the exposed skin and he growled. "Cuz the safe-word is 'Blasto'."

That drew a surprised laugh out of him and he leaned back to look at her. "Why would… Never mind. No, it's not. Just tread lightly."

"So you're not stopping me?"

Garrus scoffed. "While you were incarcerated, I was serving with him. Plenty of time to admire the way the man handles a rifle."

"Mm… So you think he's sexy too."

"That's one way to put it."

"Harlot."

Garrus rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk, Shepard," he teased, nipping her neck.

"You love me regardless," she replied haughtily, smiling up at him. "Besides, he must need some stress relief too, right?"

Garrus had to admit, she had a point, and she would be the one to understand. She was passionate about everything and threw herself completely into everything she did, regardless of how trivial in the grand scheme of things. Which, of course, sometimes got her into trouble. And when she wasn't in trouble, she was so stressed she could barely function. She wasn't unlike a turian in that way; the pressure would just build and build until it absolutely needed an outlet. And that was when she would find him. He had almost begun to expect her after every mission; hot, fast, and hard to get her head on straight and work off the adrenaline. He couldn't complain though; despite the hopeless nature of their mission, he was the most relaxed he'd been in a long time. Maybe she was on to something…

The terminal at her desk beeped and Shepard sighed, pulling away from him to investigate. Her brow furrowed as she read the message; the Hierarchy wanted her help identifying the dead from the Ninth Platoon. She'd have to tell them Lieutenant Victus was dead… Just like that, her mood fell and she sighed, covering her face with one hand. Garrus knew that look; it was one she let only him see. She was close to breaking.

"Hey, c'mere." Garrus pulled her to him again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Worry about that later. How about we go eat, and then we can come back up here, and you can catch some sleep?"

"You know I don't sleep."

"You do after great sex."

That made her laugh and she shook her head. "I need a shower first."

He had to give her that; he knew how she felt about post-mission dirt. "You shower, I'll bring food up here."

"Deal." She moved away from him again and leaned into the bathroom to flip the shower on. When she glanced back at the door and saw Garrus still waiting, she raised a brow. "Aren't you going?"

"Waiting for my favorite part," he replied with a smirk as he leaned back against the fish-tank. Shepard knew he was trying to do everything in his power to convey some sense of normalcy, anything he could possible do to distract her from what had happened and what was yet to come; no easy feat. It was the little things like this that made her know she could trust him, with anything. He just… knew her. So she obliged him and rolled her eyes, hastily peeling off her uniform. She did a quick turn, blew him a kiss, and retreated into the warm spray. From her refuge, she heard his light laugh and the sound of his footsteps. Then, silence.

With a grateful sigh, she let the pounding jets of steaming water slough the blood and grit and grime off her skin. It was such a small thing, but she thanked any deity that was still listening to her for small amenities – like hot showers; it felt like heaven to scrub the gravel from her hair.

She wasn't looking forward to submitting the IDs, but it had to be done. And she knew this was just the start. That thought chilled her. She hated losing people; saving the Council at the cost of human lives was the hardest decision she'd ever made. And this war was going to leave a trail of death a light-year wide. How long before it was her friends' bodies she was picking up off the battlefield? Could she bear to bury Liara, or Wrex? Or Garrus? She smacked the shower control angrily and stomped out, trying to outrun that train of thought. The Reapers would pay for this, all of it. She quickly threw on the loose shirt and shorts that she slept in and flopped into her desk chair, a towel wrapped around her head. Her fingers typed a quick reply that her eyes didn't see, the movements automatic until she his "send". No doubt Palaven command would respond within the day.

"Good news, food's still hot," Garrus announced as he returned. Shepard threw the towel into the bathroom and stood, happily taking one of the trays from him.

"Halle-fucking-lujah," she sighed, cracking the lid off and padding down to her couch. Steam wafted up as she settled down and she hummed contentedly; she had never expected that the most precious things in her life would be a hot shower and a warm meal. "What is it?"

"No idea, but I don't really care." Garrus watched her wolf into the food for a moment before venturing a question, "How are you doing?"

There was a second of silence as she chewed, her eyes dropping down to the floor. The concern was evident in his voice, and it made her throat tighten painfully as tears brimmed on her lashes again. She forced herself to swallow and take a long breath before answering.

"I've been better," she admitted, swallowing another rich bite of… whatever it was she was eating, she didn't even care. "I'm terrified of having to submit my reports… "

"You did nothing wrong, Shepard," he insisted laying a hand on her leg and giving her knee a tender squeeze. She managed a small smile, but shook her head.

"The Primarch's son died on my watch, Garrus. Regardless of who's at fault, it looks bad. And…" She set down her fork and cradled her head in her hands. "I feel terrible for Victus. He was counting on me to get his son off that rock, and I failed. If I'd been faster, Tarquin might still be alive."

"Shepard, don't," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Don't blame yourself for this. Victus knew the risks when he sent his son on that mission. He doesn't blame you for this, no one in their right mind does." He didn't want to tell her to forget about it—it would only make her angry, and he knew she would ignore it anyway—but she needed to stop beating herself up over it. When she didn't look up, he slid closer to her side and slid an arm around her shoulders. "Promise me you'll let this go. Maybe not right now, but eventually. Don't let this bring you down."

Shepard huffed out a sigh and leaned toward him, setting her head on his shoulder. "I'll try." She knew she should try to eat more, but her unfinished plate stared back at her, its appeal gone as her stomach threatened to rebel. Carefully, she stood and crossed the room to her bed, falling gratefully onto the sheets. When he laughed, she held out one hand blindly. "C'mere."

She could hear his footsteps as he followed and the mattress dipped when he sat on the edge beside her. She felt blindly until she found his hand and tugged him down beside her, tangling the rest of her limbs with his. Heat radiated off of him and soaked into her, slowly but surely easing some of the tension from her muscles.

"You really should eat more."

She shook her head, the top of her head tucked under his chin. "Can't. Just… lie with me for a while?"

Garrus smiled, his palms rubbing circles along her back, and let out a low hum. "I suppose so. You're right about this whole hugging thing, though," he pointed out, "I feel much more relaxed."

"This is cuddling," she corrected, hiking her leg up over his hip and pulling him close, pressing their bodies together from chest to knee. "And yes, I am. I'm almost positive I could solve all of the problems between the races if we got everyone together for a cuddle pile. You can't be upset when you cuddle."

When her hips flexed against his, he growled in agreement, one hand sliding down to trace the line of her thigh. "Or do other things…" He felt her smile against his cowl and trailed one talon up the exposed stretch of her spine.

"Insatiable," she muttered, arching into the feather-light touch.

"You know I only want the best for you," he replied, cradling the back of her head and tilting her face up to his. "And you'll actually get some sleep too."

"Mmm…" she hummed, brushing her lips against his mouth, "And who would I be to stop you from acting in my best interests?"

"Exactly." He rolled them easily so he was hovering over her, his hands and knees caging her in, and pressed their mouths together more insistently. She draped her arms around his neck and arched up so they were pressed together, savoring the friction and slide of their clothing between their bodies as their tongues dueled, mapping the now-familiar terrain. When they broke apart, she gasped and he turned his attention down to the exposed skin of her throat, trailing hot, teasing bites down to her shoulder.

"Garrus," she whined, pressing her fingers into the back of his skull. He growled in response, but continued his trek downward, sliding her shirt up to expose her breasts and stomach to his hands. When his tongue brushed the sensitive peak of her breast, she twitched, biting down hard on her lip. "Fuck, please…" she begged, running her nails along the exposed skin between his plates as he teased her.

"Patience," he purred, switching to her neglected breast. He felt the goosebumps beginning to rise on her skin as he trailed a hand down over her stomach to tease along the waistband of her shorts. Her hips strained toward him, seeking more contact, but he remained tauntingly just out of reach. When she groaned in response, he chuckled, tugging the offending garment down her legs, and bent to lick a trail down her stomach. She gasped and he couldn't help the low moan that escaped him when he found that she wasn't wearing any underwear. "Spirits Shepard…" he growled as he ran his thumb along her slit, savoring the near-convulsive moan it drew out of her.

She felt like her skin was on fire, and every cell in her body craved just a _bit_ more contact. She forced her eyes open and managed a hazy look down at him, her fingers tangling in the sheets. "Please, Garrus," she begged, bucking her hips against his fingers. In just a few moments, he had her completely undone and begging, like putty in his hands, and while it should have embarrassed her, she couldn't seem to care. "I need you."

His laugh vibrated through her body, but before she could appreciate the feeling, he leaned back. Her eyes shot open and she sat up quickly, surprise written on her face, but he held up a reassuring hand as he stood at the foot of the bed. "Patience," he reminded her, leisurely removing his tunic; her eyes lit up, drinking in the sight of him as he casually removed his clothing. She licked her lips hungrily and beckoned him back down with one finger.

When she spoke, her voice was low and husky, drawing him toward her like a moth to a flame, "I've waited long enough."

Garrus was on her then, pinning her arms above her head and spreading her legs with his knees. "Agreed," he growled, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips. She melted into him, squeezing her legs around his waist. His breath left him in a rush as she flexed her hips, the new angle pressing him against the warmth of her sex, and she took the opportunity to trail open-mouthed kisses along his jaw.

"Take me," Shepard begged, circling her hips against him, and he could have sworn he felt all higher brain function vacate his skull. For a second, he could only fathom that she was pressed so intimately against him, and that he desperately needed to be inside of her.

She cried out when he entered her suddenly, making her throw her head back against the pillows, and he buried his face against the crook of her neck, tasting the tiny beads of sweat on her skin. Every part of her fit him perfectly, and he could feel her body tighten and he rocked forward experimentally.

"More," she breathed across his cheek, her face flushed and warm. And he obeyed, picking up a punishing pace that had her keening, tugging against his hold on her wrists. Yet from the sounds she made—her muttered curses, clumsy supplications, and enthusiastic praises—he knew she was losing control as quickly as he was. His hips snapped against hers, his grip on her arms clenching as she drew him further and further into oblivion. Her startled, euphoric moan shocked him back to the present just as she squeezed tight around him, her back arching off the bed; and it was only one, two, three more frantic thrusts before he joined her with a low rumble.

When his head cleared, he rolled onto his side and pulled her with him, bundling her against his chest; he could see her eyes beginning to glaze over, the sure sign she was close to falling asleep.

"You were right about other things," she mumbled against his carapace, pillowing her head on his bicep.

"Beg pardon?" he grumbled, still struggling to break through his own mental haze.

"You can't be upset when you're cuddling, or doing other things. That involve less clothes."

Garrus chuckled, settling back, and let his eyes fall closed. "I'll be sure to tell the Primarch."

"Good."

* * *

**Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yeah, I'm just way too busy/lazy for a proper Author's Note today...**

**ALL HAIL THE MIGHT GREENYODA987 IN ALL OF HER WONDERFULNESS**

* * *

Shepard had left him at some point in the night, because when Garrus awoke to his 0600 alarm, she was gone. He didn't mind, but he sometimes wished she would at least tell him where she was going. He'd rolled out of the sheets and stumbled back down to the Battery, changed into fresh clothes before his watch had started; when the next rotation got to their posts, he was already in the War Room. Some of the techs began filing in and he stifled a yawn, glancing expectantly down at his omnitool. If he was right, Shepard wanted to hit a planetary-defense cannon today so nothing could interfere with her plan to cure the genophage, and she'd at least send him a copy of her ground team roster.

By 0700, he was a little concerned, but didn't let it bother him. She sometimes got caught up talking to people and lost track of time; she'd wandered down to the battery at 0100 before because she'd gotten caught up talking to Cortez well into the night about… something important. For all her battle prowess, she could not keep track of time. He could see Victus head to his console near the center of the room and nodded in acknowledgement, yet there was still no word from Shepard.

"Vakarian, a word?"

Garrus looked up in mild surprise and moved to stand beside the Primarch obediently. "Sir?"

Victus tapped at the screen in front of him for a moment before fixing Garrus with a look from the corner of his eye. "I had a very… interesting conversation with the Commander in the mess this morning," he informed the younger soldier casually, "and I was curious if you knew anything about it?"

"I…" His omnitool chose that moment to chime and Garrus smiled apologetically before opening the message.

_CMDR-SH Victus knows. Might have laid it on a little thick. Act natural._

Well, that explained that… He shut the interface off and gave a small, disbelieving shake of his head. "Apparently, I do, sir," he finally said, absently crossing his arms.

"Intriguing," the Primarch replied without looking at him, yet Garrus could hear the rolling purr deep in the elder man's chest, and he felt his skin get hot beneath his plates. His hands clenched instinctively to keep himself from doing something… very stupid. His mandibles pulled tight to his face to try to stifle his urge to respond in kind. "And, my understanding is that this is something the two of you have discussed and agreed on?"

"Uh…" In a way, they had, but he had to wonder if post-coital snuggling was really quotable as evidence. "Yes, it is."

* * *

Shepard had given up on the possibility of sleeping through the night like a normal person, but finding herself awake at 0400 with six hours of blissfully restful sleep, she couldn't complain. She had been careful not to wake Garrus when she left—he shouldn't have to suffer her insomnia with her—and padded down the crew deck in search of coffee.

That had been where she had run into the Primarch, as she scrounged around for a mug in the cabinets. She'd almost run into him when she turned around to pour coffee, and for a second, they had stared at each other in shock.

"Commander, I… I didn't expect anyone else to be down here. Or awake," Victus finally said, regaining his composure seconds before Shepard. He reached past her and snatched one of the smaller rations packets off the shelf.

With a snort, Shepard filled her mug and inhaled the pleasant aroma drifting up from the cup. "Anyone else would be able to sleep for more than an hour at a time," she replied. She took a long sip and sighed happily. "Although, if it helps, I won't tell anyone about your snacking," she added as he tore into the packet with his teeth. At his guilty look, she laughed, leaning back against the counter and cradling the warm mug in both hands. "Couldn't sleep?"

Victus flicked a mandible in a half-hearted smile and shook his head. "Should I be able to?" After a second, he shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, Commander, that was unfair. No, I couldn't. I can't stop thinking about all of the people counting on this alliance to work, and what will happen if we fail…"

"We won't." Shepard looked up at him, mug tucked under her chin. "We can't. And as far as I'm concerned, nothing can stop us. The Reapers don't stand a chance against a united galaxy, and I'll be damned if anything stands in my way."

The Primarch hummed in agreement, dumping the contents of the packet into his mouth. For a moment, neither said anything—Victus chewing, and Shepard sipping her coffee—and the silence of the empty deck stretched on. "I wish I shared your certainty, Commander," he finally said after he'd swallowed, "but the pressure of our position has put some stress on my optimism."

A sly, cryptic smile curled up the corners of her lips and Shepard set her mug on the counter beside her hip. Garrus had said she had been hitting on the Primarch—whether she had known it or not—so maybe he had noticed too. And they _had_ agreed that Victus would be a welcome guest in their bed, if he wanted. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to remind him. "You could, you know. Share my certainty," she said, letting her voice drop to the sultry pitch she usually reserved for tormenting Garrus—she was sure he would forgive her—and stepped away from the counter, propping one hand on her hip. Immediately, she saw his eyes drop to the dip of her waist, then back up to her face; she recognized the nervous twitch of his mandibles and the stock-still set of his jaw: it was the same look Garrus had had the first night he'd come to her cabin.

"I… I'm not sure I understand, Commander," he finally replied, glancing nervously toward the elevators as if he expected someone to arrive at any moment. But she could still hear the deep, throaty growl of his subharmonics, a cue she had picked up from Garrus to mean that he was very, _very_ interested.

Shepard's smile softened and she closed the space between them to lay a hand on his arm. "Primarch, I understand the stress you're under, believe me. And I can help, if you'll let me," she purred, watching his eyes flick down to where she was touching him. She could feel the heat of his body through the sleeve of his tunic as she ran her fingers down the length of his forearm. "Or Garrus, if you'd prefer."

Like that, the atmosphere was charged, static sending tiny tremors up her spine as Victus swallowed self-consciously. The Primarch shifted his weight between his feet, but didn't step away and Shepard took the chance to move closer, mere inches separating them. She heard his sudden intake of breath before he went still and took the chance run her hands down his chest, mapping the pattern of his plates through his shirt.

"You don't have to decide now," she whispered, savoring the rumble she could feel coming from deep within his chest, "but we wanted to extend the offer. Your choice." She leaned in, her lips just inches from his jaw and sighed. "You smell delicious…"

His expression as she left him standing there would stay with her for the rest of the day, and it made her grin over the rim of her coffee cup, smiling like she'd just won the lottery.

* * *

"Then I suppose I might have been a bit rude to the Commander," Victus replied, finally turning to face the younger turian. "I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to answer without… confirming your agreement."

Garrus opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again, trying to think of what he wanted to say. "What exactly did she suggest, so I don't make a mess of this?" he finally asked, cradling one elbow in the opposite hand and tapping absently at the scarring on his cheek.

Victus smirked and looked back down at his console. "Stress relief," he replied, "of a bit more personal nature, if her behavior had anything to do with it. And that the offer was from the both of you." When he looked back up at Garrus again, there was a fire behind his eyes that had the young sniper struggling to act natural. "Is that true?"

"Yes." The word was out before he had decided to speak and the knowing smile that spread across the Primarch's face made his stomach tighten deliciously. He _might_ have harbored a secret attraction for the older general during their time on Menae—Victus was capable, strong-willed, and not unattractive for a man of his age—and he _might_ have neglected to mention the extent of that attraction to Shepard. She'd forgive him, he hoped. "I might have suggested it after our… meeting yesterday."

"Really? Well… I have to say, I'm glad. It would be a shame if I had been mistaken about our time stationed together," Victus said, shamelessly looking Garrus up and down as he relaxed into his hip. "Unless I was, in fact, mistaken."

"No, no sir," Garrus said quickly, suddenly off-guard and scrambling. He had anticipated that he would be the one instigating this conversation, not the other way around. And yet he wasn't the least bit put out by the change. He _had_ been attracted to Victus when he was a general, and he _had_ entertained the possibility of suggesting they… ease tension. But that had been before Shepard had strode back into his life in a cloud of biotics and destruction to save the goddamn day. Still, Adrien Victus… Who was to say he couldn't have both? Oh Spirits, if he could have both… "I… I had wanted to ask, but…" He swallowed and managed a nervous smile. "You have a reputation."

Victus chuckled, now completely ignoring the messages appearing on his console. "For taking liberties with the rules."

"And not your men."

Victus stared at him for a moment, surprise written on his face before he recovered. "I see. I… I apologize for giving you the wrong idea, then."

As the Primarch looked down at his hands to hide his embarrassment, Garrus felt his confidence return. He had spent months on Menae as a highly-ranked advisor, he was respected by commanders and generals—Victus included—and he had survived two suicide missions; he could survive this conversation. "You didn't, although now you can make it up to me. Us," he corrected himself quickly, relaxing his posture. But as Victus went to reply, Garrus's omnitool pinged again and the sniper huffed out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry." He flicked the message open and scanned the words quickly. And then read them again.

_CMDR-SH Taking Javik and EDI down to Tuchanka, see how combat-ready they are. Shouldn't be longer than a few hours at most. Victus say anything?_

Garrus couldn't help his smile. For once, he didn't mind not being on the ground team. Javik was a good soldier—albeit, a very morose one—and EDI was… well, EDI. He had no doubt they would be more than enough back up for Shepard. And he was sure she wouldn't mind if he… started without her.

_VKRN-GA Discussing your suggestion. Exploring possibilities. Good luck._

When Garrus looked back up, the Primarch was watching him with something predatory in his eyes; Victus raised a brow plate, his eyes darting back down to Garrus's still open omnitool. But when Victus looked back up to him, his eyes fiery, Garrus felt his pulse speed up. For whatever reason, he had the distinct feeling that Victus knew what was being said, yet Garrus couldn't look away. Whatever that look promised, he wanted it.

"You mumble when you're concentrating," Victus rumbled, only loud enough for Garrus to hear. "You did it on Menae, and it seems it's a habit." There was a smile in his voice and Garrus felt his blood heat up, neck flushing in mild embarrassment. "What possibilities?"

Garrus swallowed and tried to nod nonchalantly toward the hall back to the CIC. "Whatever possibilities you'd like," he answered, a playful smirk on his face. "Though maybe not here."

The look Victus gave him was downright lecherous, and it took all the control either possessed to walk at an inconspicuous pace out of the war room.

* * *

Shepard looked down at her omnitool as the shuttle taxied out of the hangar bay, a grin spreading across her face. Leaving the Primarch to Garrus had been a very wise plan, and she had no doubt that when she got back, their situation with the Primarch would be much more intimate. Fantastic.

"Is something wrong, Commander Shepard?" EDI asked from her left, "My physiological scans show an increase in your heart rate and body temperature."

"No, no EDI, I'm fine," she said quickly, tapping a prompt reply.

_CMDR-SH I expect a thorough report when I get back._

* * *

The elevator doors opened to Deck 1 as Garrus's omnitool lit up with Shepard's reply, but he didn't even notice as the Primarch backed him into the short hallway. His back hit the wall with a dull thud and Victus returned to his original endeavor of teasing him mercilessly; the elder man alternated light and sharp bites along the sniper's neck and Garrus growled, grabbing at the Primarch's clothes.

"Cabin," he ground out, finally managing to push Victus away long enough to wave his omnitool in the direction of the door. With a ding, the lock turned green and the doors slid open. Victus was on him again as they entered, fingers scrambling to undo Garrus's armor and the younger man didn't make any effort to stop him, instead opting to begin unfastening Victus's shirt. Garrus had the Primarch's shirt over his shoulders after a few short seconds, belated realizing that Victus had stripped him of his chestplate and shoulder guards with ease. With a growl the elder turian pressed the young sniper back against the glowing glass of the fishtank, tossing pieces of armor to the floor, and took a firm hold of the younger man's fringe. Garrus snarled as Victus tugged his head back, exposing the sensitive skin of his neck, yet the sound faded into a deep purr as the Primarch traced the line of his throat with an insistent tongue. His hands scrambled for anything to hold on to, exposing more and more of the Primarch's plates to his fingertips until his torso was bare, tunic lost to the growing piles on the floor.

Garrus' greaves hit the floor, the remainder of his armor following soon after and Victus pressed their bodies flush together, only a few layers of fabric separating them. The young sniper groaned, pulling against the restraining hold on his fringe to no avail. Victus's teeth grazed the length of his jaw and dropped to nibble along the inside of his collar, and Garrus felt his groin plates beginning to part. He pushed the Primarch back, ducking his head enough to close his jaws around the elder man's throat and release the hold on his fringe. Victus froze, a surprised warble escaping him as Garrus divested him of his pants.

"Vakarian…" he started, warning dissolving into a pleased growl as the younger man's claws scratched along the exposed hide between his plates, the tiny motions sending shocks of delight through him. Garrus paid him no mind, sliding one hand down to trace along the seam of Victus's groin plates, and the Primarch's mandibles went slack.

"Victus," the sniper replied, licking at the small marks where he had broken the skin. "Something you need?" He didn't know where this boldness had come from, but he didn't care. Maybe it was this cabin, and his past success therein, but he felt an advantage; this was his element.

"You," Victus grunted, pushing him back enough to unzip his undersuit, "to hurry up." He ripped Garrus's undersuit down his arms, and nodded toward his clothing. "Strip."

Garrus chuckled, toeing off his boots, and finished removing his undersuit. Now bare, he held his arms open and flicked one mandible in an insolent smirk. He was more than aware he was already exposed, but the way Victus's eyes dropped down to his already hard length made him want to puff out his chest in pride. "Better?"

"Much." Victus flipped them faster than Garrus thought possible, shoving the younger man back against the side of the display at the top of the stairs hard. Shepard's models rattled and shook on their racks, but didn't fall. Both men froze, waiting for the pain-stakingly precise models to settle again before Garrus laughed.

"Perhaps we should move to a more stable surface? Like the bed?" he suggested, sneaking a light nip on the Primarch's mandible.

"Are… are you sure?" He cast a dubious glance at the diligently made bed, then back to the young sniper. "Are we even supposed to be up here?"

Garrus snorted, slipping past him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Yes, and yes," he replied, insolent smile widening. "Or we could use the couch, if you're that worried." Spirits, when had he gotten so irreverent? Yet Victus didn't seem to mind, stalking down the two steps and across the living area to loom over him. A strong hand cradled his chin and he found himself looking up at the Primarch, held there by a vice grip under his jaw.

"I'm not worried."

"About everything, or just this?"

Victus's eyes widened and surprise colored his expression. For a moment, Garrus worried that he had said something wrong, that he had ruined it before it had started, yet when Victus smirked, his fear vanished.

"Point taken," Victus replied, his hand under Garrus's chin sliding to cradle the back of his head. Garrus leaned into the touch, his eyes falling closed, and purred, letting his hands run up the front of Victus's thighs. "Thank you."

"You have a lot on your shoulders," Garrus murmured, savoring the way Victus massaged circles on the back of his skull, "I want to help."

Victus opened his mouth to reply, yet the words never came out, replaced with a sudden, surprised groan as the young sniper stroked down his now-erect cock. Garrus's smile was mischievous and knowing as he stroked along the Primarch's shaft. Victus groaned, his eyes falling closed. Garrus watched the minute changes of expression in his face with unguarded interest, his stomach clenching deliciously as the elder turian began to pant. Maybe this was why he always found Shepard watching him…

"You picked a… A hell of way to show it…" Victus finally managed, grabbing Garrus's wrist to stop him, "And while I appreciate your… passion, you're going to have to stop… that. For now."

Garrus smirked, but let Victus pull his hands away. "And what should I do instead?" he asked innocently. When Victus didn't say anything, mandibles twitching as he tried to slow his breathing, Garrus's eyes sparkled. He tangled one leg with Victus's, their spurs locking together, and rolled them over, pressing the Primarch back onto the mattress, triumph spreading across his face. "If you don't tell me, I'll just have to think of something." The new position had them pressed together and the friction made both groan.

Victus growled in response, flipping them again so he was hovering over the younger man; his knees pinned the snipers legs, and his hands were planted on either side of Garrus's head. "Less talking," he rumbled, eyes burning down into the younger man's. Garrus could see he was already near his breaking point; the strain of the job, and the amount of time he'd gone without… Garrus could feel the wavering vibrations of impending release from Victus's chest and bucked his hips up teasingly.

"Fine by me, Primarch," the younger turian replied, trailing his hands around his partner's narrow waist, "but you're going to have to decide what you want from me."

"Little respect wouldn't hurt," Victus retorted, trailing one finger along Garrus's mouthplates. But when the younger turian nipped at the offered digit, his browplates shot up in surprise. When he licked it from knuckle to tip and lifted his chin in a gesture of submission, Victus looked ready to swallow his tongue.

"Yessir," Garrus chirped, grinning at Victus's shock.

"Better," the Primarch finally managed, voice dropping in pitch. Either he hadn't expected Garrus to submit, or he had expected more of a fight. But he would appreciate this development all the same. He dropped his hand down between them, working the lubricated digit into the willing body beneath him, and watched as the young sniper's expression changed.

Garrus took a sharp breath through his nose at the initial intrusion, willing himself to relax. He could _feel_ Victus watching him and let out a wavering breath as the sensation became less foreign. It had been years since he'd sought comfort in someone of his own species, and even longer before that since he had tumbled with another male. A part of him was nervous, yet another part—a larger part—was quivering in anticipation. Victus curled his finger and Garrus snarled, hands tensing on the Primarch's waist; stars exploded behind his eyes and he gasped, mandibles splayed wide.

"Much better."

The finger was withdrawn and Garrus let out a huff of air, trying to slow his suddenly-frantic breathing. "Glad to… be of service," he panted.

Victus spread the younger man's legs open with his knees and pressed his hips forward, teasing the sniper with the promise of satisfaction. Yet he paused, studying Garrus's expression for a moment. "Is this alright?"

Garrus blinked in surprise, unsure whether he was supposed to answer. If they had gotten this far, it seemed pretty safe to assume that it was alright… "Sir?"

"I don't… The people under my command, I… I don't want to take advantage…"

Garrus rolled his eyes and reached down to grip his partner's hip. "You're not taking advantage of me, Primarch. I believe I—or at least Shepard—suggested it, and you agreed. And I'm no longer under your command, since returning to the _Normandy_."

Well, that _was_ true… Victus couldn't help his smile and ducked his head down to nip at the younger man's neck. "True enough."

"Good, then hurry up."

Victus let out a low, rumbling laugh. "Impatient, soldier?"

"Yessir."

The Primarch thrust forward and Garrus's breath left him in a rush. The sensation of being filled shattered all other coherent thought, and it struck him just how much he'd missed being with another man. He loved Shepard, but there were some things she couldn't do. Things that he often didn't think he needed, but still. As much as he wouldn't give up what he had with Shepard, it was a welcome change and he let his head fall back, eyes sliding closed as a pleased rumble emanated from his chest. Victus added his own pleased growl and bent forward, teeth skimming along the young sniper's cheek.

"Waiting for an engraved invitation?" Garrus panted, grip on Victus's hip tightening.

Victus didn't answer with words, but with a deep snarl as he drew back and thrust forward again. The sound Garrus made in response was somewhere between a roar and yell, subsiding to a desperate purr in the back of his throat as Victus picked up a steady pace. With a metronome's regularity, his hips snapped forward and Garrus could feel the beginnings of oblivion creeping in on the edges of his consciousness. Colors and starbursts danced behind his lids as Victus's rhythm began to waver, betraying his weakening grip on control. But when the Primarch's hand closed around his sensitive length, he couldn't help the wanton moan that escaped him.

"Adrien…" Garrus started, blood roaring in his ears as he struggled to keep ahead of his desire. But the Primarch silenced any more words on the sniper's part with a few firm passes of his hand and the younger man dissolved back into an incoherent purr, mandibles pulled tight to his face. And Victus, it seemed, was faring similarly. Three more sharp trusts and he came with a roar, savoring the way Garrus shuddered through the shocks. But Victus was nothing if not a caring lover and kept up his ministrations, stroking the young sniper's weeping erection with increasing speed until he came with a startled groan. Completely spent, they fell into a tangle of limbs, side-by-side on the now-rumpled sheets.

For a moment, neither moved, stupefied in the afterglow and oblivious to the world around them. Which was probably how they missed the door opening.

"Well, I see everything went well."

Garrus lifted his head and gave the woman standing in the doorway a dazed smile. "Hi, Shepard."


End file.
